


The Importance of a Touch

by orphan_account



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Gen, could be seen as kind of pre-slash if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-07 12:53:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/748725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Superboy makes an excellent personal jungle gym, especially for a deaged Robin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Importance of a Touch

Batman frowns sternly at the Team. “How did this happen?” he growls, eyelets narrowing as he surveys them each individually. All but Kaldur look to the floor, shamefaced and guilty. Deplorable; they should all take credit for their mistakes. Kaldur, at least, is responsible enough to step forward and debrief him.

“My apologies, Batman,” he begins, hand in a fist over his chest – a sign Batman knows from his interactions with Aquaman to be a gesture of apology, “but we were unaware that a member of the facility’s security was a trained magic user. We were unprepared – and Robin took the fall.” He bows his head for a moment, silent, then continues. “Prior to the…magical confrontation, Robin was able to access and download the requested information. We believed that the alarm system had been disabled, though upon attempting to exit, we discovered that a silent alarm had been tripped instead. That is when we encountered the magic user, and in the ensuing fight, Robin came to be in his current…situation.” Kaldur’s impressive self-control betrays him for a moment as his pale silver-green eyes leave Batman’s cowled face to watch the small form currently using the League member’s body as some sort of jungle gym.

Robin, de-aged to about nine and a half years old, is having a blast doing impressive acrobatic feats while using only Batman’s body as support.

The Dark Knight heaves an almost imperceptible sigh, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. Kaldur believes that had Robin not been using the man’s arm as some sort gymnastics equipment, Batman would be rubbing his eyes or pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Understood. Team, go wash up and get changed. I need to speak to Robin privately.” They all hesitate for a second, eyes darting from Robin’s grinning face, to Batman’s stern one, to the showers, then to each other. There seems to be a silent (or not, considering the Team’s mental link) consensus to obey the League member’s orders, as they all file out after throwing one more concerned glance at the Dynamic Duo over their shoulders.

Bruce is silent for a moment, allowing Dick to leap gracefully off his shoulders, flip twice, then land in a silent crouch before him. “Come with me,” Batman says, holding out a hand for Dick, who eagerly grasps it. “We’re going to the medical bay.” The boy huffs and makes a face, but nonetheless walks obediently beside his guardian. “Go sit on one of the examination tables,” Bruce instructs the acrobat as he turns on the lights and preps some of the machines.

He turns, finding Dick perched on a table, beaming and happily kicking his legs in the air. The corners of Bruce’s lips twitch upward despite himself, then he turns again to retrieve the equipment. “I know you’re like this because of magic,” Bruce explains, “but I need to check to make sure there weren’t any adverse side effects.” Dick nods. “Alright,” Bruce says, pulling back his cowl so he can use the stethoscope. “First, take your tunic off so I can check your breathing. I’m going to ask you some questions while I do this, okay?” He’s not sure just how old Dick is mentally in there, and if he’s as young as his physical body is, then he’ll still need the explaining and prompting.

“Alright,” Dick agrees, still grinning widely. Bruce begins the checkup by placing the stethoscope on various locations on his chest and back, asking him to take a deep breath each time. Once that part is done, he begins asking the questions.

Questions such as “What’s your name? Do you know my name?” and so forth are answered easily. Bruce then moves on to the more serious questions, the ones that will determine just how old Dick is mentally.

“What’s the last thing you remember before you woke up on the Bioship?” Brue asks as he shines a light in the boy’s eyes, checking for a concussion. There is none.

“Um…” The boy scrunches up his face in thought. “Well, I remember going to bed last night after patrol…I think I remember waking up this morning, but I’m not sure.” Bruce nods; some memory loss isn’t too uncommon.

“And do you know what year it is?” He finds himself holding his breath as he waits for Robin to respond.

“Um, it _is_ 2007, right?” Bruce feels his stomach plummet. Mentally the same age as his body, then. All the memories are lost with those years, apparently. Dick seems to catch on to his disappointment, and suddenly looks stricken. “It’s not 2007, is it?” he asks sadly. “I heard…Aqualad’s report, but I don’t remember doing any of that…” His face suddenly twists into a harsh frown. “I don’t understand!” he huffs, “I don’t know who Kid Flash or Miss Martian or Aqualad or Artemis or even _Superboy_ are!” He looks up at Bruce, eyes wide and searching for answers. “What happened?”

Bruce stands up straight, cobalt eyes looking over Dick’s small body for a moment. “I would be right in assuming that you are about nine and a half years old, correct?” he asks finally. Dick nods emphatically. Bruce sighs, running a hand through his hair. He pauses, contemplating how to go about explaining this situation. “Do you remember Kaldur explaining that you encountered a magic user?” Dick nods again. “Prior to being hit by this magic user’s spell, you were thirteen years old and an active member of a covert ops team, fighting alongside the other young heroes and protégés. The spell you were hit with appears to have de-aged you to your current situation. Do you understand?”

Dick nods, though his mouth is open in amazement. “You mean that de-aging stuff can really happen?” Bruce nods. “Wow, so Superman _wasn’t_ lying when he told that story about you ‘n him ‘n Wonder Woman! Gosh,” he says, giggling a bit. Bruce rolls his eyes; trust Clark to tell embarrassing stories about him to his son. “Wait wait wait!” Dick exclaims suddenly, sitting bolt upright. “You said I was _thirteen_ and on a _team!_ ” Bruce nods, prompting him to continue. “Wow, that’s so cool,” Dick says dreamily, “I must be _awesome!_ ” he exclaims, punching the air with a smirk on his face.

Bruce smiles, despite himself. “Come on,” he says, “put your tunic and mask back on. The Team should be done by now, and I still need to talk to them.” He pulls his cowl on, once again becoming Batman as Dick re-glues his mask and becomes Robin. Oddly enough, it appears Dick’s costume has shrunk with his body. He’s certainly not wearing one of the earlier versions of his costume that he had worn at that age. The boy slides his arms into his tunic and zips it back up, then reattaches his cape and hops off the examination table.

To absolutely no one’s surprise, they find Wally in the kitchen eating his post-mission meal (not snack, an actual _meal_ ). Dick beams, bounding over to perch on the high counter beside where Wally is eating. The redhead looks up in surprise, obviously still not used to his best friend’s current predicament. Batman watches them for a moment, then leaves for the Monitor Womb where he can contact Zatara.

“So you’re Kid Flash, huh?” Dick says, kicking his legs just as he had done before in the medbay. Wally nods and gives an affirmative answer, but the words are lost in the food. “Cool! So, you’re like…a mini-Flash, right? Are you his nephew? You kinda look like his nephew. Does that mean you can run as fast as him?” Wally’s mouth is wide open as he’s bombarded with questions, some chewed food dripping out of his mouth like saliva.

Artemis comes to the rescue, whapping the speedster upside the head with one hand as she combs through her long and thick wet hair with the other. “Mind your manners, _Kid Glutton_ ,” she huffs. Turning into the main kitchen, she retrieves an apple from a bowl resting beside the sink. She then proceeds to bite into it, chewing as she rests her elbows on the counter and observes the two in front of her. Robin twists around so he can see her, eyes squinting behind his lenses as he looks her over.

“I think you’re Artemis, right?” he asks. She nods, heeding her own advice of minding her manners and not speaking with her mouth open. “Wow. So, are you like, Green Arrow’s sidekick or something? That’s so cool!”

“ _Hey!_ ” Wally breaks in, food swallowed by this point. “ _Don’t_ call us sidekicks!” Robin huffs and rolls his eyes.

“Fine!” he says, “Are you Green Arrow’s _protégé_ , then?” he rectifies his question, shooting a pointed look at Wally. Artemis smirks, enjoying the entertainment the two’s antics provide.

“Yup, and that moron over there is Flash’s nephew, and no, he _cannot_ run as fast as the Flash” she says (somewhat smugly), offering no further information. By her own (very limited) experience, she knows that kids are curious and have a knack for knowing when things don’t match up quite perfectly. Revealing too much in this situation could lead to a much-too-informed baby Robin accidentally revealing all her carefully hidden secrets to the Team. Wally shoots her a look, but he can’t protest around all the food he has yet again shoved in his mouth.

“This is so awesome!” Robin says, grinning wide. “I can’t believe I actually get to be on a _team_. Do I kick butt?” Artemis notices a gap in his smile from what she assumes is a baby tooth falling out. She covers her grin by taking another bite out of her apple.

“Not as much as _me_ , of course, but you do definitely kick some major butt,” Wally says, mouth conveniently clear of food to brag. Artemis snorts. Swallowing, she speaks up.

“Psh, yeah right,” she rolls her eyes, then directs her words to Robin. “You’re the most experienced on our Team, and yeah, you kinda do kick some major butt.” She doesn’t want to stroke his ego, but it’s not like he’ll remember this when everything is fixed (right? Please don’t let him remember, oh god). “You’re our resident hacker and acrobat extraordinaire.” She can’t hide her smile at the way his own grin widens even more.

“ _Wow!_ ” he exclaims, seemingly at a loss for words.

“Don’t get a big head, kid,” Wally huffs, “I’m still cooler than you.” Robin rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out at the redhead as he goes back to eating.

“Yeah right, _Flasher._ ” Wally twitches violently, spitting his food back out on his plate (“Oh, _ew,_ Wally!”).

“It’s _KID FLASH!_ God, how many times do I have to _tell_ everyone?!” He moans, putting his head down right in his food as Robin snickers. Artemis rolls her eyes and huffs.

“C’mon, Kid Dork, clean yourself up. The rest of the Team’s coming and Batman still wants to talk to us.” Wally mumbles something vicious-sounding into his food, then sits up and proceeds to lick as much of his face as his tongue can reach. “Oh, _ick_ ,” Artemis says, scrunching up her face in disgust and throwing Wally a few paper towels so he can properly clean his face. Baby Robin jumps off the counter, then joins her as they head towards the Monitor Womb to join Batman. He slips his smaller, slender hand into her own and she can’t help but smile.

M’gann eagerly floats up to join them, taking Robin’s other hand in her own. He gazes at her in wonderment, obviously entranced by her green skin and the way she defies gravity. The Martian girl titters, levitating Robin until he’s floating in the air level to Artemis’ head. He giggles, the joyful sound almost exactly like the eerie cackle his older self uses. Arriving in the Monitor Womb, M’gann slowly and gently lowers Robin to the ground, where he eagerly dashes over to stand proudly by his mentor. Batman glances down from his work on the holo-computer for moment, then refocuses until the rest of the Team arrives.

“Team,” he addresses them gruffly. They stand at attention (though there is still some food stuck in Wally’s hair). “I’ve requested Zatara’s assistance in this matter. He is currently away on a mission, but should be back by this evening or tomorrow morning at the latest. However,” he pauses, “I am needed for a mission with the Justice League.” Robin looks up, knowing that he’s not allowed to join Bruce on League missions yet, and is dismayed at being left behind. “I am entrusting Robin to your care for the time being. Kaldur,” he says, turning to the Team’s leader, “I have put together a list of things you will need to know about this situation.” He instructs Kaldur on where to find the list, then turns his attention to Robin.

“We’re still not sure if there will be any harmful side effects; so, if something doesn’t feel right, tell one of the Team members immediately. Behave,” he says sternly, “and stay where they can see you in case something goes wrong. I should be back before Zatara gets here.” Looking up, he addresses the entirety of the Team. “Are my instructions clear?”

“Yes, Batman,” Kaldur agrees, the rest of the Team nodding. With that, Batman briefly rests his hand on Robin’s head, then turns to leave. His disappears in a flash of golden light, leaving the Monitor Womb silent for a moment.

Robin then turns to the Team. “So,” he begins, “what’s there to do around here?”

* * *

 

Conner is relaxing, watching No Signal to rest his ears after a noisy game of Go Fish that M’gann had _insisted_ the Team play. The static washes over his ears, soothing him and washing away some of the rage that comes with too many sounds all at once. He still doesn’t have complete control over his hearing, so his Team’s loud antics can occasionally be very painful for him. In the near-silence, his enhanced hearing can only just make out the sound of soft, quiet footsteps. Ah, so it’s mini Robin, then.

Superboy doesn’t really understand Robin’s condition. All he knows is that somehow, Robin is almost four years younger than he was this morning, and that the Boy Wonder doesn’t recognize or remember any of them. His musings are interrupted when the miniature acrobat flips over the back of the couch and lands beside him.

“Whatcha watchin’?” Robin asks with what Superboy is _sure_ are wide eyes. Somehow, that makes the kid even more endearing, which only furthers Conner’s own confusion.

“Static,” he grunts. Robin squints at him, then peers at the TV, then squints at him again. He appears confused that Conner is watching No Signal, which doesn’t make sense to the clone.

“Um, not to be rude, but _why?_ ” Robin asks, nose scrunched up. Superboy merely grunts in response, refocusing his attention on the static. He can feel the boy fidgeting beside him, growing more anxious as the clone continues to stare at the television. After a couple of minutes, Conner can feel Robin flip back up to stand on the back of the couch. He’s not worried about the couch flipping over given that he’s sitting on it, but he keeps a wary ear out just in case.

He hears Robin leap into the air, and before he can react, feels the boy’s hands come down to rest right on his hunched shoulder blades. Robin balances his body in a perfect handstand, but Conner jerks back in surprise of the sudden physical contact. The acrobat stays “traught” though, easily shifting his hands forward until they sit on the clone’s actual shoulders. Conner scowls fiercely.

“What are you doing?” he growls, reaching up and grabbing Robin’s wrist so the boy is dangling in front of him. He ignores the pained yelp, still scowling up a storm. “Do I look like a jungle gym to you?”

“I was just doing a handstand! Batman and Superman let me do it to them all the time!” Robin protests, curling his body up around Conner’s arm in an impressive display of abdominal strength. A low growl emits from Conner’s mouth at the mention of Superman.

“Do I _look_ like Superman to you?” he asks in a low, dangerous tone. His question in retrospect is actually pretty stupid, considering his status as _Superman’s clone_ and all. Robin pouts, sticking his tongue out at him.

“Yeah, actually, you _do_ kinda look like Superman. Except Superman is _nice_ and not nearly as mean as you! Gosh, what’s your _problem?_ ” Conner’s grip loosens for a moment in shock, and Robin manages to escape his hold long enough to do a triple flip off the clone’s shoulder and run away. Superboy stands there for a moment in alarm, still frozen by his youngest teammate’s words.

Is that why Superman doesn’t want him? Because he can’t control his anger and does stupid things when he’s angry? He swallows, slowly lowering his arm back to its place beside his side. He suddenly remembers Robin’s yelp when he grabbed him, and feels tremendously guilty for his actions. Robin is only nine right now, and he doesn’t know how to deal with Conner or how to sooth his anger, not like thirteen-year-old Robin does.

Conner turns to apologize, but Robin is already long gone.

* * *

 

Dick crawls into an the air vent located in one of the Cave’s numerous hallways, making his way through the labyrinth for a bit before stopping to rest. His wrist aches from Superboy’s strong grip – he has a feeling the clone doesn’t have full control over his strength yet. Sliding off his glove, he can see a vicious hand-shaped bruise beginning to form even in the dim lighting. Hot tears begin to form in Dick’s eyes. Not because of the bruises, but because of a culmination of a lot of things. It’s his fault he’s nine again, even if he can’t remember ever being thirteen. Batman’s not here, Superboy is _nothing_ like Superman, his wrist hurts, he’s tired, and he just wants to go back to the Manor to see Alfred and eat some cookies.

Taking a deep breath, Dick manages to get his emotions under control. Sighing, he lays down in the vents, pillowing his cape underneath his head. His stomach clenches uncomfortably, but he passes it off as hunger and decides he’d rather avoid facing Superboy again than eat.

Within a few minutes, he’s fast asleep.

* * *

 

“Conner,” Kaldur’s voice interrupts the clone’s training session, “where is Robin? He said he was going to see you.” Conner looks up from his pummeled punching bag (which totally does _not_ have Superman’s face taped on it) to see the rest of the Team standing behind Kaldur in the door of the training room. He swallows, feeling nervous and knowing he’ll probably get in trouble for his actions.

“He ran off after I told him he couldn’t use me as his personal jungle gym,” he replies curtly, going back to beating up Superman’s face. “I thought he went back to you guys.”

“That’s not good,” Wally says, “Rob’s not supposed to go anywhere without somebody with him, and he could be anywhere in this Cave by now.” He speeds around the room, looking under training equipment and in crevices where Robin’s small form could easily fit. Kaldur nods.

“Agreed,” he says solemnly, “We must find him as soon as possible. M’gann, can you scan the Cave for his mental presence?” She nods, closing her eyes and drawing her hands to her temple. The Martian is silent for a moment, focusing as she searches for Robin’s mental presence. She finds it almost immediately, though it is small and quiet in unconsciousness.

“I found him,” she says, “He fell asleep in one of the vents.”

“Good,” Kaldur says, “I will accompany you to retrieve him. Lead the way.” She nods, floating off towards Robin’s mental presence. Kaldur follows her until she stops in the middle of a hallway directly underneath a vent opening in the ceiling.

“He’s just inside there,” she says, removing the grate with her telekinesis and gently levitating his body down into Kaldur’s arms. Kaldur carefully adjusts him into a more comfortable position, trying his hardest not to awaken the child. He then brings him to the TV room, where he lays the boy out on the couch. After a moment’s thought, he unclips Robin’s cape and drapes it over his form as a makeshift blanket, then takes a seat in a nearby chair and picks up the book he’d been reading.

M’gann floats over to the kitchen, where she begins making brownies or cupcakes or some equally sugary delight that Kaldur hears all surface children adore.

* * *

A half an hour late, Robin groans and blinks open bleary eyes. Somehow, he’s _not_ in the Cave’s ventilation system, but is instead lying on the very same couch that Superboy had been sitting on earlier. He goes to rubs his eyes, then remembers his mask is still on. Yawning, he pushes himself up into a sitting position and looks around. Kaldur looks up from his book a few feet away, and Kid Flash speeds by towards the source of the noise that had just woke him up.

“Brownies!” he can hear the speedster cry out in happiness. Dick immediately perks up. He loves brownies! Leaping off the couch, he dashes towards the kitchen where he finds a laughing Miss Martian batting the speedster away from the cooling batch of chocolatey goodness with a spare wooden spoon.

“Not yet, Wally!” she chides, “Robin gets first dibs!”

“I do?” he asks, and they whirl around, obviously caught off guard by his presence. “Awesome!” he cheers, flipping up to perch on the counter by the brownies. Miss Martian tuts, swatting at his feet with her spoon.

“Feet off the counter, young man!” she scolds, sounding painfully like his mom (and it doesn’t help that she even kinda looks like her a bit), “People eat off there, that’s nasty!” He blushes and looks down, but carefully adjusts himself so that he’s sitting with his legs dangling off the counter rather than perching. Once his position meets the Martian’s approval, she motions for him to go ahead and make his selection.

Giggling, he carefully picks out the largest brownie from the batch, ignoring Wally’s dramatic wailing in the background. When he bites into it, he finds that it’s, well…less than stellar (though perhaps he is just the slightest bit spoiled with all of Alfred’s delectable baking), but he smiles and finishes the rest of the brownie eagerly to make Miss Martian (who’s watching him with a hopeful look on her face) happy.

“Did you like them?” she asks shyly, “I’ve gotten better at following the recipe, and this is the first time I didn’t let them get burnt!”

“They were very yummy,” Dick replies, then pushes himself off the counter and allows Wally to devour the remainder of the batch. He looks around. “Where’s Superboy? I wanna talk to him.”

M’gann looks at Wally nervously, then replies, “I, um, I think he’s in the training room…but be careful if you find him in there, okay? He gets really focused when he’s training and he might accidentally hurt you if he doesn’t know you’re there…” Dick snorts at _that_ notion, but scampers off before she volunteer to walk him to the gym. He wants to talk to Superboy _alone_.

Sure enough, Superboy is hiding in the gym. Well, not so much hiding as apparently trying to do some weird yoga pose. When he growls and loses his balance, the clone punches a nearby punching bag so hard it across the room and leaves a small crater where it hits the wall. Robin gulps, and apparently, the small noise is enough to attract Superboy’s hearing. The clone looks up sharply, and when his piercing blue eyes catch sight of Robin’s small form in the doorway, he suddenly looks immensely guilty.

‘ _Rightfully so_ ,’ Dick thinks with a mental huff, but nevertheless approaches his supposed teammate.

After a pregnant pause where both of them stare awkwardly at each other, Dick begrudges, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have climbed on you without your permission.” He looks down, hands behind his back as he shifts from foot to foot waiting for Superboy to respond.

“You’re…” the clone begins, sounding immensely confused, “You’re apologizing…to me?” When Dick nods, he appears even more confused. “But why?”

Now it’s Dick’s turn to look confused. “I just said it! I shouldn’t have climbed on you without asking you first. Batman says that some people don’t like being touched as much as I do and that it might make people uncomfortable, so I’m sorry.” Superboy’s face scrunches up.

“I should say sorry,” he says, “I was just…surprised. People don’t usually touch me at all, and my reaction was out of line.” He looks ashamed, like a kicked puppy. “I hurt you didn’t I? When I grabbed you?”

Dick cradles his wrist close to his chest, rubbing it with his other hand at the painful memory. “…Yes,” he admits, “You did.” When Conner kneels and reaches out, he automatically flinches away, then hates himself for it when he sees the hurt look on the clone’s face.

“I – I’m sorry, I just…can I see?” He reaches out tentatively again, and this time Dick slides his hand out of his glove for Superboy to see. The dark, purpling bruises look much worse than they did in the dim lighting of the ventilation system, and Dick winces when Conner brushes a finger over them.

The clone looks horrified and beyond guilty, and maybe even on the verge of tears (and something in the back of Dick’s mind tells him that _Superboy_ and _crying_ are not two words that belong together in a sentence). “I…I did this?” the clone asks with soulful eyes that beg him to say, ‘ _no, it was just some nameless Gotham thug who happened to grab me in the same place you did, that’s all, no need to worry,_ ’ but Dick gulps and nods.

Conner’s face crumples and for a moment Dick thinks he’s actually going to cry, but the clone somehow manages to get his emotions under control. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice thick with emotion. I want to help kids…l-like Superman!” he says with big eyes, “Not…” he gestures at Robin’s bruised wrist.

Dick is silent for a moment, then steps forward and draws Conner into an awkward hug. The clone freezes caught off guard by the sudden act of kindness. “W-what are you doing?” he asks, still frozen in place.

“I’m giving you a hug, you doofus,” Dick mutters in his ear, “Haven’t you ever been hugged before?”

“I…no,” Conner realizes with a start, “Not really?” Dick gasps, scandalized, and pulls back.

“You’ve _never_ been hugged before _ever?_ ” Conner shakes his head, wondering why this is such a big deal. “Not even by older me?” When he shakes his head again, Robin looks horrified.

“You hug Wally…I mostly high fives or…‘fist bumps,’” he believes they’re called.

“This needs to be fixed immediately!” he says, then latches on to Conner even tighter. “We have to make up for lost hugging time!” Robin insists, and the clone, bemused, awkwardly closes his arms around Robin’s form to carefully hug him back.

“Yo, SB, Miss M’s getting started on dinner and she wants to know what you wa--…what’s going on here?” Wally trails off as he catches sight of his two teammates hugging. Instead of letting go, Robin latches on even tighter.

“Wally, Superboy’s never had a proper hug before!” Apparently, this is a Big Deal, bigger than Conner initially thought, because Wally gasps and looks just as scandalized as Robin had. Before either one of them can blink, Wally has zoomed over and has his arms wrapped around both Robin _and_ Superboy.   

“Dude, Supey, why didn’t you say anything before?” Wally says, “Haven’t you ever heard of the wire monkey experiment?” Conner glares at Wally so hard the ginger thinks he might possibly have to holes in his head right now if the clone had heat vision.

“I. _Hate. **Monkeys**_ ,” the clone growls in a deadly tone.

‘ _Oops_ ,’ Wally thinks, wishing he had thought that through. “Oh, uh, sorry,” he apologizes, but doesn’t let go.

“Wally, where are you?” they hear M’gann’s scolding voice, “I asked you to talk to Superboy, and – oh!” she cuts off as walks into the gym. Without even asking what’s going on, she flies over and wraps everybody in a tight hug, stretching out her arms so she reach all the way around. “Group hug!” she giggles.

“Guys, seriously –“ Conner beings to protest, but at that moment, _Kaldur_ walks in.

“Is this a surface custom of which I am unaware?” he asks slowly, looking very confused by the tangle of bodies in front of him.

“Rob says Superboy’s never had a hug before!” Wally calls out. Kaldur’s sea foam green eyes widen at the thought, and nods.

“I see,” he says, then steps forward and joins in the group hug.

“Um, really –“ Conner begins again, but this time Artemis interrupts.

“Yo, M’gann, what’s on the menu?” When she catches sight of all the physical contact going on in front of her, she arches an eyebrow and walks right back out of the room. “Yeah, _nope_ ,” they can hear her saying.

“But Artemis!” Dick cries, “Superboy doesn’t know what a hug feels like!” She peeks her head back into the room reluctantly. Dick squirms and somehow manages to pop his head out up over the mass of arms. “C’mon, _please?_ Just this once?” He gives her a _look_ , one that has her melting even though she can’t even see her eyes.

“Ugh, fine,” she relents, rolling her eyes and trudging over to the group. She hovers awkwardly at the edge, unsure of where exactly to join in (hugs aren’t exactly her forte either) until one of M’gann’s elongated arms reaches out and jerks her into the group hug.

They sit there for a moment, and just when Artemis begins to think that hey, this isn’t so bad after all, Superboy speaks up again. “Guys, really, you can let go now.” He starts to squirm a bit, and everyone lets go and stands back.

They hang there awkwardly for a second until M’gann speaks up. “So, dinner!” she says, clapping her hands together. “I was thinking I could try to make spaghetti?” Robin perks up, bouncing on his feet.

“Ooh, ooh, ooh, can I help?” He beams at her and she thinks not even Lex Luthor would be able to say no to a face like that. When she nods, he cheers and flips – literally does handsprings – out the door and down the hallway towards the kitchen. M’gann laughs and floats after him.

* * *

When Dick takes his gloves off to eat, he doesn’t think anything of it until he hears Wally gasp.

“Dude, what happened?” he asks, sounding appalled as he gently grabs Dick’s bruised arm and draws it closer for inspection. Dick tries to jerk it away, but Wally tightens his grip, accidentally agitating the bruises in the process.

“It’s nothing!” he protests, not wanting Superboy to get in trouble now that they’ve made up.

“It is most certainly _not_ nothing,” Artemis scolds, leaning closer to Wally so she can get a better look. “Those are _fresh_. I saw your arm this morning and you didn’t have any bruises. What happened?”

“It was an accident!” Dick says, tugging his arm again. This time he gasps a bit when Wally tightens his grip, startling the older teen into letting go. He hugs his arm to his chest, drawing his cape close around his shoulders in an attempt to conceal the injury.

“It looked pretty deliberate to me,” Wally says. He wants to scream, because Dick is his _best friend_. Part of being best friends is telling each other everything. If Dick was his normal age with his normal memories, Wally’s pretty sure he’d already have not only an explanation on how it happened and who did it, but also a run-through of how Dick had taken them down. Instead, he’s stuck with this pint-sized twerp who, though adorable, doesn’t really seem to trust Wally that much yet.

“I did it.” Conner’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts.

“ _What?_ ” Wally asks, looking aghast. Part of him thinks that he must be hearing things, but another part reminds him that Conner doesn’t really have any control over his emotions or powers yet.

“I said it’s my fault,” Conner repeats, looking incredibly guilty. He looks down, unable to meet his teammates’ eyes. “I got angry and grabbed him too hard when he was climbing on me. It’s my fault.”

“But I forgive you!” Dick says earnestly. “I forgive you! You’re not touching people enough to know how hard is too hard and all that stuff – how were you supposed t’know you were squeezing me too hard if you’ve never even had a real hug before?”

“I think,” Kaldur cuts in, “that Superboy should talk to Black Canary about training in controlling his strength. Perhaps she will be able to help you. For now, let us go back to eating the wonderful meal that M’gann and Robin have prepared for us.”

The Team can’t argue with that, and quickly dig in. With Robin’s help and expertise (read: tips from Alfred), the spaghetti has turned out much better than expected. The bruises are soon forgotten as they swiftly become involved in a discussion on whose favorite comic book hero is the best (“It’s totally Spider-Man!” “You’re crazy, man, Daredevil all the way!” etc, etc). After the dishes are put away in the dishwasher, the Team migrates to the TV room where M’gann insists they watch a Disney movie.

Robin huffs that he’s totally old enough to watch something more intense because hey, he goes against stuff out of your worst nightmares practically on a nightly basis, but M’gann has her mind set on _Tangled_ and isn’t about to give up. He plops himself right in Superboy’s lap, wrapping the two muscular arms around him in a pseudo hug. Conner looks perplexed, but doesn’t argue.

Halfway through the movie when Conner’s breath starts hitching and his eyes start burning, Dick thinks he picked a good place to sit. He leans into Conner’s chest, hugging him and trying to make him feel better. The clone stiffens at first, but then slowly relaxes when he realizes it’s just a hug. Something about the physical contact soothes him and makes the burning in his eyes less intense.

He wonders how he could’ve gone so long without having a real hug.

* * *

When Batman and Zatara enter the Cave together two hours later, they find the Team passed out in the TV room with the DVD menu for _Tangled_ (which somebody has muted at some point) playing on repeat. It takes Bruce a moment to spot Dick’s small form curled up against Conner, using the clone’s thigh as a pillow and his cape as a blanket. He approaches, and when he reaches down to pick up Robin, he’s momentarily surprised to find Superboy’s fist around his wrist.

The clone looks down at his hand like he’s surprised at his reaction, then blushes and releases Batman’s hand. “Sorry, sir,” he murmurs, watching him for a moment longer as the mentor picks up his protégé and draws his dark cape around the small boy’s shoulders, then returns to sleep.

Batman observes the Team for a moment longer, then turns to head back to the Batcave with Zatara.

* * *

“Um, has anyone seen Robin?” Wally asks the next morning as he munches on some cereal. “He’s usually up by now, but I haven’t seen him all morning.”

“Batman came last night while you guys were asleep,” Conner grunts as he pours himself some milk. “I think he took him back to the Batcave.”

“Aww,” M’gann pouts, “I wish I could’ve said goodbye!”

“M’gann, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon,” a familiar voice cackles.

“Robin!” M’gann cries in delight as she whirls around to find a thirteen-year-old Robin standing behind her. “Oh, you’re back to normal!”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he laughs, taking a seat at the counter beside Wally. “So, can I have some of those waffles you’re making?” The Martian girl smiles and places one on a plate, then hands it to him. He digs in, smiling even though they’re a bit undercooked, and gives her a thumbs up. The way her face lights up at the praise cancels out any desire his stomach has to expel its contents.

Superboy watches, then turns and leaves abruptly when his glass of milk is finished. Dick quickly finishes up his waffle, dumping his plate in the sink with a quick peck on the cheek for M’gann, then darts after him.

“Conner, wait!” The clone freezes, looking back down the hallway. When Dick catches up, he continues, “I just wanted to tell you – the bruises were gone when I was turned back and I didn’t tell Batman anything, so don’t worry, okay?” Conner’s stomach clenches uncomfortably at the reminder of what he’d done yesterday, but he nods. “Also,” Dick continues, “we’re starting a new trend in the Team, okay? Daily hugs!” He leaps forward, squeezing his wiry arms around Conner’s muscular frame for a long second, then darts back down the hallway towards the kitchen.

Conner smiles. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering what the wire monkey experiment is, there's actually a YJ fic back on FFN ("Wire Monkeys," I believe it's called) that gives you the general gist. Basically, it was a sick experiment done to judge how well baby monkeys would grow up and develop if they had zero interaction with other monkeys and their only source of food was a 'mother' made of wire, or a 'wire monkey.' As expected, they didn't turn out very well, often resorting to self harm or becoming abusive towards any potential children.


End file.
